


Sharp edges

by chaoticdean



Series: Suptober 2020 [11]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 15x18 coda, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt, Emotionally Hurt Dean Winchester, Five Stages of Grief, Grief/Mourning, Letters, M/M, Post-Episode: s15e18 Despair, Suptober 2020 (Supernatural), Temporary Character Death, post spn 15x18, spn coda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:02:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26957026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaoticdean/pseuds/chaoticdean
Summary: Suptober 2020, day 11: rock'n'roll.Castiel told him he loved him right before getting swallowed up by the Empty. Sam told him to talk, but words won’t come out, and really, how is he supposed to tell anyone how it feels to lose everything? So he writes. Letters on napkins, motel notepads, paperback books. He writes as he goes through every steps of grief, until finally there’s a light at the end of the tunnel.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: Suptober 2020 [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949341
Comments: 10
Kudos: 100





	Sharp edges

**Author's Note:**

> Friendly reminder that all my fic so far are unbeta'd, and that English is _**not**_ my native language, so please bear with my possible mistakes :)

**_Lebanon, KS / November 12, 2020_ **

**_4:32 am_ ** ****

It’s been 6 days.

144 hours.

8640 minutes.

I have prayed to you every single minute. Words won’t come out, I haven’t been able to eat much, let alone move from the spot where I’m curled up in my room. I managed to piss Sam off enough for him to leave, which was my point all along. I can’t deal with the sadness dancing around his eyes, I can’t deal with your loss weighing on his shoulders on top of what is going on inside myself.

He said if I wasn’t gonna talk to him I should at least talk to someone, but I don’t really know how I’m supposed to talk to anyone. The only one I wanna talk to is you, and you’re not here. You’re not here, and that’s on me. I should’ve known, and I should have fixed it.

Loving you was never a choice, not really. No more so than drawing air into my lungs, or falling into sleep amongst the darkness. Loving you didn’t happen all at once, the same way the ache inside my chest won’t heal tomorrow.

I’m going to fix this, Cas. And until then, I’m going to write to you.

Please wait for me.

— Dean

*******

**_Cedar Rapids, IA / December 27, 2020_ **

**_2:15 am_ **

I can’t sleep. It’s the middle of the night and Sam has been sleeping across the room for at least two hours already, but I can’t sleep. All I can think about is you. ****

You once told me that I was a broken boy in love with the broken pieces that shattered around my soul. That there was no room for you amongst the ruin of my heart. I said nothing and watched as you walked away, knowing you’d be happier if I wasn’t there to hold you back. Making my peace with your absence by knowing it was better this way.

I've tried so hard to let you go; not to wake holding your name under my breath; avoiding my tongue from pressing against the sharp edges of your name. But it doesn't matter how much i need to move on, there are pieces of you embedded in my skin, etched into my bones, and it won’t give no matter what.

Some nights, when all I can think about gets lost in the darkness and the silence stills my bones, I wonder if I could have done more; wonder if I could have done better. I ask myself if I could have told you sooner, if we could have made it work against all the odds.

I'm not sure I could have loved you more than I did, than I still do. But I want you to know that I would have tried, even if it took more than I was able to give.

Maybe letting you go was the only way to prove it to you; that I could love you more than I do the monsters that make me who I am.

Please, Cas, wait for me. I need you to wait for me.

— Dean

*******

**_Newport, AR / January 24, 2021_ **

**_00:07 am_ **

I’m not sure I can find the right words to describe how it feels to miss you, but when I think about it, homesickness comes to mind first.

Not having you here, riding shotgun in the Impala or tilting your head at me when you don’t understand my excitement over some stupid piece of pie, it feels like every atom of my being is yearning to be somewhere else; somewhere that feels like you; somewhere that feels like home.

If I’m being honest here, I don’t think that feeling will ever go away, but maybe that’s how it’s always been meant to be. Maybe these bones were built to miss you; maybe your absence is the price I have to pay for my body being able to hold on for so long.

I’m 42 today. I’m 42 and all I can think about is how I miss you standing next to me; how I miss your stupid smile when we put Led Zeppelin on in the car; how I miss the low rumble of your voice as you laughed, the sound better than any rock’n’roll song echoing against the curves of my Baby.

Come back to me. It’s getting harder to breathe without you.

— Dean

*******

**_Green Valley, AZ / May 1, 2021_ **

**_11:46 pm_ **

Live with it long enough, and pain begins to feel familiar, even comforting. I guess when it's the only constant, even heartbreak can find a way to feel like home.

Your name has always found its way behind my teeth, even on the days I can't bear to speak it. I had thought maybe that would change once you were gone; that I wouldn't wake up with your memory embedded in my soul, making it hard for me to breathe from the moment I open my eyes in the morning.

But love doesn't work like that. Or, at least, healing doesn't seem to. The truth is, the letters of your name still feel like home around my tongue, and I'm not sure anything can change that; I'm not sure I want it to.

These days, grief isn't the snapping jaws and endless darkness I had thought it would be. Instead, it's just a series of small cuts; sudden reminders of how much I miss you. In the end, it's just something I try to put away, it's all just an envelope with your name on it.

I’m trying, Cas, I really am. Please wait for me. I’ll be there.

— Dean

** *** **

**_Terre Haute, IN / July 21, 2021_ **

**_9:39 pm_ **

People always tell me that healing is just a matter of time, but I'm not sure that's true.

You are still here; still in everything. Sometimes I find the shade of blue of your eyes in a stranger’s jacket, breathe a tone of copper and citrus and find myself wrapped around the memory of your scent, notice a bee and quietly collect myself from the ashes of the pain echoing through my bones like a swollen reminder of who you used to be.

These memories of you are coiled around my lungs and I can’t stop them from twisting their way around everything else; from making it hard to take breath.

The time we shared taught me so much about love, and loss. You showed me how to relearn the word forgiveness; how to hold longing to my chest like a prayer.

But even now, with the words you carved for me little more than bones at my feet, I don't know how best to describe you. And maybe that's the problem; maybe I shouldn't be talking about you at all. Maybe I should leave the words beneath my tongue, and try to make peace with the ruin in my throat.

I don’t know how to hold on to my pain anymore, it just feels like an endless cycle of grief, where the only constant is how much of my soul misses yours.

We’re getting closer, Cas. Hold on for me.

— Dean

*******

**_Sioux Falls, SD / September 18, 2021_ **

**_00:04 am_ **

I hear people talking about the day they met someone they fell in love with; how they remember every detail. For me, it wasn’t like that. The day I met you is little more than a blur, like a series of torn and faded photographs. But I do remember one thing; I remember knowing that my life would never be the same again.

I’m sure every bone in my body knew you were a story I would never come back from. I’m sure my ribs were already preparing to protect this thing in my chest.

There are days I don’t think about you. Trips where I don’t think about what we’d be doing if you were next to me. They’re not often, but I swear I’m learning to breathe without your name on my tongue.

13 years, Castiel. And all I can think about is the hole in my chest that you left almost a year ago. All I can think about is the way your voice curled around the edges of your “I love you”; all I can think about is the blue of your eyes shining through the darkness before it took you. 

But most of all, all I can think about is the fact that you didn’t hear me say it back, swallowed up by nothingness before it reached your ears. It’s what keeps me awake most nights, it’s what makes me fight to find my way back to you.

I love you, Cas. I love you, and I’m gonna get you back because I need you to hear it.

— Dean

*******

**_Chicago, IL / November 6, 2021_ **

**_2:53 am_ ** ****

One full year, and you’re finally here.

And by “here”, I mean right here inside my arms, and I feel like my heart is going to give up anytime soon. It’s what kept me going for 365 days; it’s what kept me from going insane or fading into the darkness.

And all I managed to say was “I love you”. Because it’s really all that matters, really.

I love you, and we’re going to make this work, come whatever may.

I love you and I’m never letting you go, Cas, you hear?

But for now, I can finally put that notebook down, and drown myself into your scent, into the feeling of your skin pressed against mine. I can finally fall asleep listening to the steady breaths of your sleep. It’s a tune I missed so much that I might stay awake for a while, relishing the quiet sound of your breathing until it lulls me to sleep.

Better than any rock’n’roll songs.

— Dean

**Author's Note:**

> _  
>  **rebloggable on[Tumblr](https://chaoticdean.tumblr.com/post/631715455386763264/sharp-edges)**   
>  _


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